Sparks of Salvation
by Silver Spider
Summary: In addition to dealing with the aliens, the Maximals face more internal problems. Sequel to "Drifted Sparks Reimagining". CHAPTER 4 IS UP!
1. Prologue: Human

_**Author's Note: **_Welcome to "Sparks of Salvation", the sequel "Drifted Sparks Reimagining". This story picks up immediately after the last one, except for the prologue which takes place right before the epilogue of DSR. Also, check out my collection first-person pov snippets related to the series called "Shock & Awe". There's not much else to say about it, so as always enjoy and please review!

**  
Sparks of Salvation**

**By: Silver Spider**

**Prologue**

**Human**

First Lieutenant Elizabeth Myers of the Marine Corps would have been hard pressed to remember a world without Cybertronians. She had been three years old when the Autobots and Decepticons emerged from their four million year slumber when Mt. St. Hilary exploded in 1984. She had seen the massive metal goliaths do battle, felt the ground tremble as they clashed. By the time she joined the Marines around the turn of the century, the world had accepted Autobots and Decepticons as part of every-day life.

It was not always a good thing. The alien's Great War had caused more damage than most human wars in the twentieth century combined. Countless lives had been lost, whether on purpose or by accident. But some good had come out of the robots' presence. Advances in technology – both military and civilian – had grown exponentially since 1984 due to corporation with the Autobots, but more than that the Cybertronians had shown mankind not only that they were far from alone in the universe and forced them to think of themselves as a species, as humanity as a whole instead of a collection of different nations and races that happened to occupy the same planet.

It was for that reason that Lt. Myers stayed quiet when her commanding officer, Marine General William Sheppard raved about how wonderful it was to finally have them off the planet for good in 2005. All the general ever saw were the enormous messes he and his troops were charged with cleaning after a major battle between the two Cybertronian factions. Myers understood his resentment for being treated as little more than a glorified housekeeper but having never known a life without them, she had always thought that the advantages of their alliance with the Autobots outweighed most of the trouble the Decepticons caused. So she let him rant, but quietly kept her opinions to herself. Lt. Myers may have been a dedicated soldier, but she refused to be a drone.

When a small group of top officers including herself had been notified by the elusive Sector 7 that Cybertronians were back on Earth, she allowed herself a moment of excitement. Having barely served five years when the Autobots and Decepticons returned to their home planet, there had been little opportunity to work with them closely so she looked forward to it now. She briefly wondered why there had been no announcement by any news network about the arrival but had not been terribly bothered by the apparent secrecy at the time.

It had, however, been difficult to hide her surprise when she was presented with three tuxedo-clad men and a boy who looked barely in his teens and told that they were something called 'Maximals', apparently Autobot descendants. She had trouble wrapping her mind around not only their size and human appearance but also their behavior which seemed very un-Autobot-like to her. There was an edge to them all, a cynicism that their ancestors never possessed. It was most evident on the often grim face of their commander, the young man with the golden curls. She'd also heard them speak of a fifth, a woman who she had not met but who was apparently the young commander's sister. Myers did not understand how that was possible when she'd never heard of Cybertronians having any family structure at all similar to humans, but then again a lot of things were strange as far as these Maximals were concerned.

The second time she saw them she arrived at Hoover Dam to inform Tom Banachek, head of Sector 7's Advanced Research Division, that some apparently extremely sensitive information had been stolen from their Boston office. She had been told to go directly to Banachek and only speak to him when she was absolutely certain they would be alone, but when Myers arrived, he was speaking to two men she had never seen before.

Their ages were difficult to pinpoint, though both had to be at the very least in their late thirties. The man on Banachek's right stood an in inch or two above six feet, and if there was a difference in their ages, Myers would have guessed he was the elder of the two. A peppering of gray was beginning to show in his dark, neatly trimmed hair, with wisdom evident in his warm brown eyes. Ever so slightly noticeable lines ran across his brow and around his mouth when he stopped speaking and gave her a genuine smile as she entered.

The second man was different. At first glance he could have easily been mistaken for the other's younger brother, but it occurred to Myers that she was not certain he actually was younger. He was about two inches taller than his companion, but the softness that predominated the first man's features was completely absent in his chiseled, high cheek-boned face. The man could have been carved from marble. His hair was a shade lighter than black, not so much curling as falling in waves to just below the nape of his neck. And his eyes... too light to be black, too dark to be blue, they seemed nearly violet.

He was the most beautiful man Elizabeth had ever seen... and also the most frightening.

Like the Devil himself.

She must have been staring – completely unprofessional and more impotently unlike her – because the man noticed. His perfect lips curved in a lopsided grin that was everything from amused to seductive. Everything but warm. Elizabeth turned away.

"Lieutenant Myers," Banachek cleared his throat as if noticing her in the doorway for the first time. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"My apologies," she stood straight, her hands clasped behind her back in typical military fashion. "I was unaware you were occupied. I will come back later."

"Actually we're almost done. In the meantime, could you do me a favor? Please find Christopher Stark in the infirmary and ask him to come down here. He might need some help, so give him a hand, if you don't mind."

"Of course."

Turning on her heel, Myers left the office, all the while wondering just who were these two men who were so alike yet obviously so very different.


	2. Chapter 1: Resonance

**Chapter 1**

**Resonance**

He should not have been surprised. It had to be the third or forth time that this had happened, but nevertheless as Rattrap stared at the middle-aged man who was human only in appearance on Banachek's right, he had no doubt who it was. Just like he had no doubt who the slightly taller man with the insidious smirk on the human's left was, but he chose to ignore it. Rattrap knew if he thought too much about it, it would ruin the reunion.

"Optimus!"

Humans would probably never understand how they were able to tell their own when their bodies changed so often, but then it was precisely the reason why they could. He found himself grinning, but a glance at the others told him that he was the only one to do so. The tension from the remaining four men was almost palpable in the air.

Dinobot and Depth Charge wore twin looks of grim resolve, their brows drawn together. The raptor's hands flexed at his sides as if he wanted to reach for a weapon not in his grasp. Nightscream's ice-blue eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and confusion and his hold on Silverbolt's forearm must have been no less than a death grip because the fuzor had to gently pry the boy's fingers off before taking his hand. The look on his own face was unreadable, and Rattrap found that to be the most disconcerting thing of all.

Primal stepped forward, taking the time to look each and every one of them in the eye probably to judge the level of animosity there or maybe something else. He must have found what he expected because he nodded to himself before opening his mouth to speak.

"It's good to see you all," he said, "I wish this reunion was under better circumstances. I regret that we don't have much time to catch up, but we need to talk."

"No," a voice nearly alien to Rattrap's ears reached them, "we don't."

Looking past the trio to the far end of the hallway, Rattrap saw Cheetor and Blackarachnia who must have just entered. The spider woman's complexion was paler than usual, contrasting greatly with her long black hair and the hard look in her emerald eyes. And Cheetor... he looked like he had aged five years in the few hours that Rattrap had last seen him. His posture was stiff, most likely due to his injured leg, but he did not reach for any support, whether it was the wall or his sister.

"_We_," he repeated taking an obviously painful step towards his old mentor, "have nothing to talk about. Least of all in front of _him_."

He jabbed a finger at Megatron, who had the audacity to plaster a wide-eyed and innocent 'who?-me?' look onto his face. Cheetor pressed his lips into a thin line as he walked forward to hide the fact that he was gritting his teeth, whether in anger or pain or both. He was face to face with Optimus and looked the older man directly in the eyes.

"I stupidly tore my leg open again," he said, and it was then that Rattrap noticed the blood-soaked fabric of his right pant leg, "so I need to get to the infirmary and clean up before I bleed over everything in sight. _Then_ we can all talk. If you can separate yourself from your new _friend_, that is."

With that, the young man turned on his heel and walked away. Blackarachnia said something to him as he passed, but he shook his head and continued until he was out the door and out of sight. Blackarachnia crossed the short space towards them, brushing past Optimus and Megatron as if they were not even there. Primal nodded with acceptance if not without a measure of sadness.

"I understand. We can talk in an hour. I have a few things to discuss with Mr. Banachek anyway," he turned to go but then stopped. "It _is_ good to see all of you."

If he wanted to say more, he must have decided against it. Banachek started back for his office with Optimus and Megatron in tow. They were soon out of sight, and it was as if the remaining group breathed an audible sigh of relief. Deciding that someone needed to break the silence before things got uncomfortable again, Rattrap designated himself.

"What the slag, webs?" he companied, though of course he knew precisely what the slag was. "That's Optimus."

"Did you happen to notice who was with him?" she asked rhetorically.

"I know, but... ah slag," he cursed and tried for a different topic. "How's Spots?"

Her face marginally softened at that. "Physically? He'll live. Other than that, you saw him."

"Shouldn't we go talk to him then? See where his head's at?"

Blackarachnia hesitated, sharing some sort of wordless communication with Silverbolt. Next to him, Nightscream stiffened at the prospect of being left alone with strangers, especially with the likes of Megatron roaming the facility. The fuzor looked between the boy and his mate.

"He is most likely to speak honestly with you two," he finally said. "Go. It will be of no use to have two ineffectual commanders."

Dinobot and Depth Charge, who had rarely – if ever – seen such harshness from the fuzor, exchange a look but said nothing on the subject.

"Then, if there are no objections," the raptor stated, "I wish to speak to Depth Charge of the whereabouts of our quarry. Preferably outside, away from prying ears."

The thought of the hunt for Protoform X instantly got the water-based Cybertronian's attention and he nodded his agreement. "Come find us when Primanl's ready to explain all this slag."

* * * * * * * * * *

How he got through two wars without knowing how to tend to a simple cut was beyond him, but judging from the mess of bloody paper towels and bandages on the floor of the infirmary somehow Cheetor had managed to do exactly that. Oh, he knew how to solder together a limb that had been blasted off in battle, but flesh was a messy thing to deal with. And now that he had forced himself to focus on it, the pain was excruciating. He muttered an obscenity.

"Need some help?"

Cheetor looked up from his position on the edge of the bed to see Rattrap and Blackarachnia walk casually into the room. He grimaced, not in the mood for company.

"I told you I didn't need anything."

Blackarachnia gave him an incredulous look that read 'and-whose-shoulder-did-you-spend-the-last-hour-crying-on' but she didn't say anything, opting for simply shrugging and leaning on the door frame.

"No offense, but why _are_ you two here?" he asked.

"I'd like ta know," Rattrap not so much say as bounced into a seat across from the foot of the medical bed, "what you plan to say to Optimus, kid."

"Haven't descried yet," Cheetor retorted never taking his eyes off the wound he was cleaning. He winced and saw from the corner of vision as Blackarachnia rolled her eyes and briskly crossed the room. She pointedly took the cotton balls and clean bandages from him, pulled up a chair, and went to work. Grateful for her help but not quite so grateful that he had nothing left to focus on, he decided to avoid Rattrap's question for as long as possible.

"Think it needs stitches?"

"No. These bodies heal pretty fast. Just change the bandages every six hours or so and stay off of it for a few days. If you decide to go for another 10K run, we'll be doing this dance all over again," Blackarachnia reproached.

"Thanks," he returned his attention to Rattrap when he felt the rodent's eyes drilling holes in the back of his head. "I'm debating between telling him to slag off right away and waiting till he's done with whatever he's going to try to sell us and _then_ telling him."

"Bit premature to be sending him back to the Matrix, ain't it, kiddo?"

"Stop calling me that!"

"Stop givin' me a reason to and start thinkin' straight."

"Are you seriously telling me there's something he could say to justify all this?!"

"I don't know," the rodent admitted. "Point is, neither do you."

Cheetor set his jaw. "Do you agree with him?" he asked his sister.

She was quiet for a moment. "You have a right to be more than a little upset," she said carefully. "I don't know what's going on with Depth Charge or Dinobot, but the rest of us all fell hurt and betrayed to various degrees."

"Difference is, no one else is in charge," Rattrap put in. "Me an' Webs are just tryin' to make sure you have your head firmly attached to your shoulders."

Cheetor was about to reply but was distracted when Blackarachnia tied the final tourniquet from a strip of bandage that she'd ripped in two.

"There. Good as new," she got up and walked over to the medicine cabinet where she went through a few bottles before finding one she wanted. After shaking out the correct dosage, she brought it back to Cheetor with a glass of water. "Take these. Pain killers don't work too well on us, but it should help a little."

"Thanks again," he said gratefully and swallowed the medication.

Blackarachnia actually smiled. "What are big sisters for?"

_Some sisters_, Cheetor reflected thinking of Airazor and Tigatron, _and old friends were for causing pain_. But aloud he said nothing. He was not quite sure what had actually happened to turn the pair against them, so it was hard to feel anger rather than just hurt. Which, he realized, incidentally was the case with Optimus as well.

"You're right," he finally admitted. "I said I would listen but honestly I don't think I was planning to. I should clear my head before I face him again. Just hope everyone else is alright."

Rattrap flashed a mischievous crooked grin. "Want us to do recon?"

"That sounds a little... underhanded," the young commander wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. "Just make sure they're okay. Well, relatively okay. I have some thinking to do. Some _real_ thinking. I'll see you later at Banachek's office."

Once they were out in the hallway with the door shut behind them, Blackarachnia couldn't help but smirk. Rattrap's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Uh-oh, you have that look."

"Look?" the feigned innocence worked no better for Blackarachnia than it had for Megatron.

"Webs!"

"Just not sure how much actual thinking he's going to have time to do. That stuff I gave him _is_ a painkiller but it should also knock him out for a few hours." Her companion glared at her. "What? He needs to rest, and Primus knows he won't do it if anyone actually _told_ him to."

Rattrap had to admit she had a point. "Ain't we meetin' the monkey in an hour, though?"

"So? Let him wait."

* * * * * * * * * *

After splitting up with Blackarachnia, Rattrap finally found Dinobot and Depth Charge outside, lead to the pair mainly by the ear splitting shouting. He was not quite able to make out the words until he opened the thick metal doors, but he had a pretty good idea what they were arguing about.

"It is more important for us to remain here," Dinobot was saying. "This is a time of crisis. Surely even with your single-track mind you can see that."

"So handle it," the water-based Cybertronian retorted, "and let me deal with X."

"Are you no longer part of this team?"

"Were you _ever_ part of the team, _Pred_?"

"Whoa, easy there, fish face," Rattrap got between the two men who looked like they were ready to tear each other to pieces. "Glad ta see you're so concerned about the right thing."

"Primal's crazy," Depth Charge spat. "This is news?"

"Don't s'ppose he said anythin' to you two before you dropped outa de sky?" Rattrap ventured a guess glancing between them.

"Nothing," the raptor admitted, "nor did I have any suspicions that this may be his move. I was not present for the Technorganic War, did not witness the atrocities that occurred, but I have long been aware that Megatron's treachery and ruthlessness knows no bounds. I would have thought Optimus Primal was aware of that as well."

"We all thought so," his friend sighed. "Look, I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told the kid: let's hear 'im out before we hang 'im."

"Forget the monkey," the platinum blond man insisted. "I'm telling you both, X is the bigger problem."

"Hardly," Dinobot objected but then he paused. "Wait. That Predacon discovered something. Something that made the humans very anxious, and I believe something they do not wish for us to know about."

"How d' ya figure that?"

"Because they have yet to mention it to us, yet they know it was stolen by a Cybertronian."

"All the more reason to get to X now while everyone's busy with Megatron," Depth Charge pressed. "Look, even if he still has flight capabilities, he hasn't used them or else we'd be hearing about giant flying crabs on the ten o'clock news. That means he might still be in Boston or at least in the North East. If I can take him out now, it'll be one less problem to worry about. You said it yourself: we have enough of those as it is."

"And if we can find him," the raptor mused, "we will discover whatever the humans are trying to hide from us. _If_ we find him."

"What's all this 'we' business?" Depth Charge glared at him.

"_Now_ you think it's a good idea?" Rattrap complained.

"I think Protoform X is a weapon," the former Predacon replied. "A weapon Megatron prepared to utilize upon his arrival here. It stands to reason we should not allow them to reunite."

* * * * * * * * * *

After it was converted into to the headquarters of one of the most secret organizations on the planet, Hoover Dam was equipped with several small rooms that housed bunk beds for workers with particularly long shifts. It was in one of these rooms that Blackarachnia found her bond-mate. Silverbolt sat on the lower bunk, his left hand resting gently on Nightscream's head which was cradled in his lap. The boy was asleep, she realized, but not resting at all if the pained look and tear streaks on his face were any indication.

"He will be alright," Silverbolt assured her when her questioning eyes met his. "He is simply in shock."

"Aren't we all?"

She felt a little guilty for being glad he had settled into sleep before she arrived. Not that she did not sympathize, but Blackarachnia was not good at dealing with children, especially ones in crisis. _As opposed to Cheetor who's such an adult_, she reflected with dry humor but neglected to mention it to Silverbolt for the same reason she had not said anything in front of Rattrap: at least one leader had to look reliable. Now was not the time to remind anyone that there was, at best, a ten year age difference between him and Nightscream. Without a word she sat down next to him and a moment later took his free hand.

"I don't have to ask how you are," she said quietly.

"No, you do not," his voice was just as measured, "but you need not worry. There are too many people," his fingers touched the boy's hair, "who are counting on me for me to let anger take control."

"You're not just angry," his mate noted. "You're furious."

Had there been anyone else in the room, that call would have raised more than a few eyebrows. Silverbolt looked, if nothing else, calm and composed especially for a man who had always expressed his emotions so openly and freely. She wanted to yell at him not to keep it all bottled up, that it always leaded to disaster, but Blackarachnia kept silent. After all, she had done just that when her own personal demon appeared. Yet another thing to feel guilty about, however momentarily: Megatron was a bigger problem than Tarantulas and thus a good distraction for her.

"Giving into that fury is an indulgence I cannot afford."

She tried not to shutter at how familiar those words were.


	3. Chapter 2: Confrontation

_**Author's Note:**_ Okay, I have no excuses. I think I lost some focus with this story, but I swear I never abandoned it! The new TF movie and all it's Beast Wars references just helped me remember how much I loved writing this. The updates might not be as regular as before, but they'll be coming along. Thank you to everyone who's still reading and please review!

**Chapter 2**

**Confrontation**

When he blinked at the clock hanging above the doorway on the opposite end of the room whose hour hand was almost at the nine, Cheetor could not help but wonder how it could be earlier than the last time he looked at it. It hit him a full minute later that it was nine a.m., not p.m.. Alarmed, it took another moment until he realized how it was possible that he had slept for almost ten solid hours when he had only meant to close his eyes for a second.

Blackarachnia.

Feelings teetering between anger and amusement, he finally settled on annoyance. Swinging both legs over the edge of the medical bed, the young commander briskly walked out into the hallway and rounded a corner to Banachek's office. He hoped that Optimus was not still there, because he did not know where to start looking for the others and had little desire to face his former mentor by himself. Luckily the threat of that vanished when he spotted Rattrap, Blackarachnia, and Silverbolt heading in the same direction from a different hallway. He caught up with the trio at a slow jog.

"Mornin'," Rattrap greeted. "How ya doin', Spots?"

"Okay, no thanks to certain people," Cheetor shot his sister an annoyed glare. "I thought black widows are supposed to poison their mates, not brothers."

Silverbolt raised a brow at this but said nothing. His mate only gave an innocent shrug.

"Do you feel better?" she countered, not bothering to point out that real black window spiders ate their mates rather than poisoned them.

"Yeah, actually." Now that he thought about it, he was surprised to note only a dull ache.

"Then you're welcome."

Cheetor rolled his eyes and decided to change the subject. "Where are the others?"

"Nightscream is still asleep," Silverbolt replied, "and I have not seen Dinobot or Depth Charge since last evening."

Rattrap fidgeted. "They'll be around." Neither Cheetor nor Optimus would probably be happy to learn that the two new arrivals went across the country to hunt Rampage.

They reached Banachek's office within moments, and when he pushed open the door, Cheetor was relieved to see that Megatron was not there. Only the human director of Sector 7 and Optimus himself stood before them. For the sake of the humans in this facility – all humans on the planet, really – he hoped that the Predacon commander was not roaming the halls without escort, though Cheetor knew there was not much humans could do if he decided to raise the Inferno just for the fun of it.

The desk divided the four of them from Banachek and Optimus, and with only two chairs before it, no one sat. All the Maximals stood rigidly, like none of them wanted to be there, which was not far from the truth. Optimus looked resigned and more than a little sad at the situation. The only human in the room cleared his throat.

"I understand this reunion is not under the happiest of circumstances," he said, looking at the faces in front of him to make sure they were listening. "I don't know the details of why, but for the sake of both our worlds, I ask that you please set it aside and hear him out."

_Huh_, Rattrap was silently impressed. _Not bad, for a human. No one's gonna argue with that one_.

Once he was satisfied that none of them were going to just walk out, Banachek left, and they were alone with Optimus. He took a breath and came around so that everyone was on equal footing, but he did not lean on the desk or show in any way that he was at ease. Nothing about him was relaxed.

"I didn't handle yesterday well," he admitted. "I should have come to you myself first, without going to the humans, without... other interferences."

No one needed spelling out what those other interferences were.

"I know you feel that I have betrayed your trust. I won't blame you if you still feel the same, but I implore you to hear me out. Since the end of the Technorganic War Megatron and I have been in a limbo of sorts, guarding the gate between the Matrix and the physical world. We alone had the power to retrieve sparks from the abyss as I have done with the seven of you."

"And like Megatron did with Rampage," Cheetor could not help but remind him bitterly.

"And like Megatron has done," Optimus agreed. "I accept the fault for that, because I let him do it. Powerful as we both were, he could do little without my permission. Believe me, I understand how you feel. I dreaded bringing him here."

"Then why did you?" Blackarachnia's voice was even.

"Because I didn't dare leave him behind. With me here, he would be the one and only guardian of the gate. Primus knows how much damage he could do to the Matrix itself and all the sparks within it if he was left alone."

Cheetor was appalled. "So you decided to bring him back to life instead? You care more about the dead than the living."

The accusation stung.

"You know better than that, Cheetor," the older commander focused his brown eyes on his former student, his tone ever so slightly chastising. "You have a receptive spark as well. We have all been to the Matrix and back. We fought the Technorganic War for the sparks."

"And you threw all that away by brining him back here." The logical part of Cheetor's mind grudgingly had to agree with the reasoning but externally he was still furious.

"I wish there was a better way," Optimus said, "but I couldn't leave him. In any case, Megatron is just as interested in stopping the aliens as we are."

"You do not seriously believe he cares for humans or for Cybertron?" this time it was Silverbolt who spoke up.

"No," Optimus admitted. "He cares about what he's always cared about: power, and the aliens are now a big threat to him. This is the real reason I returned. I made a grave error in the Vok's intent. Or perhaps I underestimated them. I don't know."

"We figured they want to use Earth t' get into this dimension," Rattrap put in. "Maybe even get t' Cybertron."

"That was what I thought as well," Optimus nodded grimly, "but I'm afraid it's worse than that. Yes, they do plan to enter this world without regard for how much damage they do, but this is their not true target. They..."

Suddenly, the door flew open. Cheetor was annoyed with Banachek's interruption but even more so when he saw Megatron following less than a foot behind the human. The director of Sector 7 muttered a quick apology, grabbed a remote control off his desk, and turned on the small television on the counter across the room. He did not really need to pick a channel.

The scroll at the bottom of the television screen named the city as Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, though aside from telling the Cybertronians that it was in the North East part of the country, it did not mean much to them. A few hours ago that part of the city may have been an affluent area, but much of what they could see lay in ruins now. The camera that was filming was shaky, but it was hard to tell just how much of the distortion was coming from that and how much was due to the wreckage around them. Either way it did not take long for everyone in the room to see just what was worth the interruption.

Rampage, bigger and possibly more twisted than any of them remembered, was going head to head with the fully transformed Depth Charge and Dinobot. Missiles and laser shots were flying in every direction bringing down buildings and overturning vehicles with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Thankfully there did not seem to be many signs of human casualties. They could only hope it was not due to the shaky view.

A deep cold silence settled on the room only be be be broken by Megatron.

"Huh," the Predacon observed the images as if it was the announcement of a sudden storm on the weather channel. "Well, I did tell him not to have _too_ much fun."

Everyone slowly turned to stare at him.

"You disgust me," Cheetor said bluntly. Silverbolt looked like he could not have agreed more.

"Now, now," Megatron wagged his finger in the air, "don't be so hasty to scrap me just yet. Not when I may be your best chance of putting a stop to him with minimal bloodshed."

"As if you care," the young man spat.

"_You_ care," Megatron reminded him. "Not that your presence is required, but I suppose you'll want to come along as well."

Banachek, the only human in the room, took that as his chance to get into the conversation. "General Sheppard insists on Marine escorts."

"By all means," the Predacon swept his arm in a grand gesture. "I love Marines."

If there was one thing to be said for Megatron is that he certainly knew how to make his presence felt and known to all. He left the room with an almost audible 'woosh' as if the air itself followed him out, and the silence returned.

Rattrap turned to Banachek. "You _do_ know his name's Megatron, right?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Blackarachnia was not pleased as she followed the others into the hanger bay. Not by a long shot, but she also did not feel like fighting with her brother again so soon after they reconciled. Still, she did not have to pretend to be happy about being left behind.

"Sorry," at least he sounded apologetic, "but since you can't transform yet, you're of much better use to us here taking a look at that alien thing Rattrap and I brought back. Nightscream can keep you company."

"Gee, thanks. Leaving the women and children behind. Are we in the middle ages?"

"I, too, would feel better if I knew you were safe," Silverbolt walked beside her.

_That figures_, Blackarachnia could not help but role her eyes. _The one time those two agree on something, it has to be something I don't like._

"Okay, whatever," she waved her hand dismissively. "Go have fun." She paused then focused her eyes on Silverbolt, "I want to talk to you. Alone."

Cheetor got the message, waved, and headed for the plane. When the space around them was fairly clear of ears, Blackarachnia stepped closer to her bond-mate and placed her palms on his chest for some kind of physical contact. It felt good.

"We didn't really talk last night," she said, "and I don't want you to downplay how bad this whole thing is for you. Will you be okay?"

She did not like having to ask. In ideal times, she would have been able to gage his response almost as if it had been her own. But the link they shared which allowed them to feel each others' emotions was not still not completely open. She had involuntarily built a mental wall on her end when she discovered Tarantulas was alive and well and now Blackarachnia did not know tow to full take it down again. In a misguided attempt to protect herself from her demon, she had crippled the way to help Silverbolt with his.

Thankfully he did seem to understand. Her mate took her smaller hands in his and squeezed gently. _He_ was comforting _her_, Blackarachnia realized, trying to alleviate her fear of loosing him and guilt that she had blocked the link, even partially.

"I nearly lost you in the Technorganic War," he said, "not because of Megatron or Jetstorm, but because my behavior upon my return was entirely inappropriate. On my spark, I swear I will not fall to that darkness again."

He bent his head and kissed each of her hands in turn, and Blackarachnia smiled.

She felt better, if not entirely so.

The plane took off with all of its occupants, both Cybertronian and human, in silence. Cheetor had no desire to talk to Optimus or to Rattrap and Silverbolt _about_ him. His former mentor was also quiet, sitting near the cockpit with his arms crossed and making a failing effort to relax. Megatron, meanwhile, had perfected the method. He sat opposite of Primal in a similar position, but his head was tipped back and eyes closed. A beatific but entirely unreadable smile touched the corner of his mouth.

Seven Marines sat at the back of the plane, looking rigid and alert. Cheetor thought it was odd having them there and did not really understand the need for their presence except to pacify General Sheppard who he decided he strongly disliked. Lieutenant Myers, who apparently lead the group, had one hand to her ear apparently listening to reports coming in. At one point she nodded, replied something inaudible, and took out the ear peace.

"Intelligence says the entire city and surrounding areas have been evacuated," she said to the Cybertronians, not really knowing who to address as their commander. "The fighting is still going on, though. Your friends have caused a significant amount of damage," she added, somehow managing to sound both disproving and still professionally cool.

"Their friends," Megatron corrected from across the plane, "but I'll be more than happy to help you nonetheless."

He opened his eyes and flashed her a smile that throughly disturbed everyone else. Optimus glared at him, but the Predacon just shrugged and went back to pretending to sleep. Since the silence had been broken, Rattrap decided to speak up.

"So since Chopperface and the sea food menu just outed us to the whole world, are we still playin' at keepin' a 'low profile'?"

"As much as we can," Cheetor replied before Optimus could say anything. "We don't know if anyone actually saw them transform. Just because humans know Cybertronians are back on Earth, doesn't mean they have to know it's us."

"And how do you plan' on makin' him," the rodent jabbed a finger in Megatron's direction, "go along with that? Low profile's never been his strong suit."

"Not my problem," the young commander's shrug would have seamed careless if it was not for all the anger in his body language. He turned his hard gaze on Optimus. "You brought him here, you babysit him. Any damage he does is on your hands."

* * * * * * * * * *

The place where they had brought the heart of the alien structure was not quite a laboratory, but rather a large room cluttered with almost random equipment. Humans busied themselves around it, running various tests and scans. Blackarachnia circled the structure to familiarize herself with it. It seemed technorganic, but then Rattrap had told her as much. She turned to the nearest human in the white lab coat.

"Have you run any sample tests to determine the properties of the material it's made of?"

The human looked started. "No, ma'am."

Blackarachnia gave him a cold look. "You are a scientist, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, but... well..."

"Tsk, tsk, Blackarachnia," her eyes narrowed as the man the humans knew as Dr. Khan and she knew as Tarantulas approach from her other side. "Intimidating poor innocent humans."

The human in question took the opportunity to quickly get out of her firring range and go back to whatever he was doing before. Blackarachnia took a defensive stance, folding her arms and glaring at her former partner. Now she really wished she had gone with the others.

"It's not my fault if he's incompetent," she shot back.

"Yes, as questionable as his competence is," Tarantulas walked over to one of the tables which, as she noted with alarm, held a verity of weapons, "in this case, it's not entirely his fault."

He picked up a very large and very sharp machete and return to the alien heart. Pausing to make sure she was paying attention, he unceremoniously and with a good deal of force stuck the knife into the wall of the structure and pulled down on it. Blackarachnia watched as the line he made almost instantly sowed itself shit again. Tarnatulas pulled out the weapon and replaced it.

"So it heals itself," the black widow mused, "even when separated from the rest of the structure. Then how did you get inside in the first place?"

"This," he held up an instrument of clearly Cybertronian design. "It doesn't like sonic attacks. Probably the organic half of it's nature."

_Sonic_?

The wheels in her head were turning and Blackarachnia suddenly whirled and headed back out of the makeshift lab.


	4. Chapter 3: Weapon

_**Author's Note:**_So it's a little on the shorter side, but hey, timely at least. I just didn't want to cram a lot of stuff into one chapter. Enjoy and please review!

**Chapter 3**

**Weapon**

Nightscream may have slept through the night, but he did not rest. He did not dream either as far as he could tell for which he was eternally grateful because he had a pretty good idea of what those dreams would be about if he had. Twelve hours later, when Blackarachnia shook him awake, he still did not feel like he'd closed his eyes at all. He shuttered involuntarily before recognizing her an instance later and blinked through sleep-blurred vision.

"Nightmares?" the spider woman asked not unsympathetically.

"I don't remember," he admitted. "Probably. Is it time for that meeting now?" Like Cheetor, he had completely lost track of how long he'd slept, but Blackarachnia shook her head.

"You already missed it, but it doesn't matter. The others went to take care of something."

He sat up at this instantly and tried to get up so fast that he nearly hit his head on the top bunk. His brown hair stuck out at odd angles and even running his hand through it did not help much, but at least Nightscream was fully awake now.

"They just left?"

"Not exactly on vacation," she chastised. "And they took Megatron with them, so don't worry about running into him. Get up and grab some food. You're going to work with me today."

Less than an hour later, he was following Blackarachnia to the lab.

"They could have woken me up," he grumbled. "I would have gone."

"You _want_ to hang out with Megatron?" the woman countered.

"No," he had not thought of that, "but what if they need my help?"

"They're just backing up Depth Charge and Dinobot," she rounded a corner. "The five of them are more than enough to handle Rampage."

Five. It was not lost on the boy that she counted everyone but Optimus.

"Anyway," Blackarachnia went on, "_I_ need your help. Remember?"

The moment they came into the lab and Nightscream saw the alien heart, his eyes widened. Following Blackarachnia around for a better look at the object, he gave a low whistle. It was kind of cool... and gross. The humans around ignored him for the most part, but the man he remembered as Doctor Khan, who was neither human nor Cybertronian in the classic sense of the word, turned an amused and clearly unimpressed eye on him as he entered.

"_This_ is your brilliant idea, Blackarachnia?" his tone expressed what Nightscream read on his face. "I think you may think too highly of your boy."

"Shut up," the woman glowered at him.

Nightscream wisely kept his mouth shut on anything concerning the good doctor and nodded his head at the object on the table. "Is that's what Rattrap and Cheetor brought back from that alien thing? What do you need me for?"

"I want to know if we can build an effective sonic weapon against that."

"You can build an effective sonic weapon against anything," Nightscream grinned.

"This thing responds only to a very specific frequency," Blackarachnia held up the device Tarantulas had built. "Take a listen, then see if you can simulate and amplify that."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Man, I hope they're planin' to do some serious remodelin'."

It was the first thing Rattrap could think to say to the destruction of downtown Harrisburg which was considerably worse than what he had seen on tv. He found himself thinking that it was a wonder humanity had a singly city still standing considering that for several decades it had served as a battlefield for Autobots and Decepticons which were considerably larger than any Maximal or Predacon.

The military jeeps had dropped them and their Marine escorts off only a block away from the actual fighting. It was as close as they could get considering the debris of toppled buildings. The Maximals, Megatron, and the Marines with weapons at the ready climbed over the rubble towards the combatants who were clearly too occupied to notice them.

Depth Charge fired an energy disk from the center of his chest at Rampage who easily dodged it, causing the shot to hit a nearby car which instantly went up in an inferno. The crab turned and let out a hideous mocking laugh at his long-time hunter. Dinobot seized the opportunity of the Predacon's momentary distraction to come at him from the side with his spinning sword, but Rampage's reflexes where faster as he shot a missile sending the raptor flying through the air to dent the sidewalk a full block away.

"Okay, that's enough," Cheetor glanced at Rattrap and Silverbolt who nodded simultaneously.

Within seconds all three stood in their robot modes. A glance in Optimus' direction, and Rattrap could see that he too had transformed, even if he did not look quite as battle-ready as everyone else. His new technorganic mode looked much like the old one, but there were definite traces of the Transmetal as well as the original robot mode he had in the Beast Wars. The only one who had yet to transform was Megatron, and he did not exactly look like he was in any hurry to do so.

"Problem?" Cheetor asked sharply.

"Only with you Maximals and your drama," the Predacon rolled his eyes. "I did tell you your presence was not required. Why fight hard when you can fight smart? But then what, would you know about that?"

And then to everyone's shock, he walked straight into the heart of the firefight. Human shape and all.

What was even more amazing is that the shooting stopped almost instantly. Depth Charge and Dinobot must have been too surprised, though Rattrap was hoping that one of them would snap out of it long enough to 'accidentally' send an energy pizza or eye laser shot in his direction. Why Rampage stopped shooting was beyond him, but there was Megatron, standing calm and relaxed between the combatants.

"My dear Rampage," at several inches over six feet he still had to glance up at the other Predacon though Megatron would never actually lift his head to look up to another being. "Would you kindly take some time out of your little play date? I am very much interested in speaking with you."

His tone left no illusion that this was any kind of request. The crab's features twisted into a grimace, but seconds later a large muscular man – still taller than any one else present – stood before them.

"I did what you asked," he hissed.

"And?"

The man before him glowered. He looked like he wanted to shred Megatron to pieces, which again Rattrap did not exactly mind, but instead Rampage moved to a pile of rubble to his right and fished out a thick folder. _Right_, the rodent recalled, _Chopperface did say he stole something from the humans_. With more cursing he stalked back and shoved the papers into Megatron's hands. The Predacon leader did not look at all phased by the rudeness.

"Thank you," he casually flipped through it. "Everything is in place?"

"Yes."

"Excellent," he turned to Optimus and handed him the folder. "Hold onto that, would you, Primal?"

"You swore," Rampage bellowed loosing his temper. "You swore you'd release me."

"And so I shall."

Instantly every single transformer who had been involved in the Technorganic War realized what was about to happen, but none had time to react. To the human Marines it looked as if Megatron suddenly thrust his bare hand into the other man's chest and tore out his still-beating heart. In fact, it was far worse. It was quick and brutal, but not a drop of blood was actually spilled. One instance they were just standing there and in another he was holding Rampage's spark in the palm of his hand.

The other Predacon blinked and made a motion to reach for the object, but Megatron, never dropping the eye-contact with his soldier, simply closed his fist around it, crushing the supposedly-immortal spark like a ball of dust. There was no glorious rise to the Matrix or fall to the Pit. Simply nothingness. Rampage fell forward with a thud and did not move again.

"There," Megatron made a motion of dusting his hands, and when he passed Lieutenant Myers, added, "just like I promised."

The humans were the first to recover, most likely because they did not understand the severity of what they had just witnessed, though the look on the lieutenant's face indicated she had some idea. Nevertheless, she replaced her weapon back in its holster and nodded to her men.

"I call this mission accomplished," she said. "Back to the jeeps."

"You're welcome," Megatron grinned and cheerfully followed the humans.

The Maximal combatants dropped back to their human guises and gravitated closer together, still staring after the retreating Predacon in shock. A chill had settled in despite the day's heat.

"What in the Pit did you unleash, Primal?"

Depth Charge's question was obviously rhetorical, but Cheetor answered nonetheless.

"The Pit itself."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Can we take a break?" Nightscream shifted back to his human form and dripped to the floor with one leg outstretched before him. "My voice is shot."

The lab had emptied of people an hour ago when it became obvious that their fragile ear drums could not withstand his sonic blasts even if they were not directed at them. Tarantulas had also disappeared somewhere, but Blackarachnia did not particularly care about that. She would have been perfectly happy if he dropped off the face of the Earth entirely, but that kind of luck she had not had recently.

She hanged the boy a plastic cup with cool water which he practically inhaled and sat down on the floor next to him as both of them eyed the alien artifact. Nightscream had to grudgingly admit that he had been overconfident about the whole thing. He was used to his sonic blasts shattering everything in sight, but all he'd accomplished in breaking was most of the equipment in the lab. _Right frequency_, Blackarachnia had said. Apparently he had yet to find it.

"What are we going to do?" the boy asked rather helplessly.

"Try again when your voice recovers," she replied.

"I meant about... you know... Optimus."

"I don't know," her voice was more than a little distant as if she was distracted, but the answer she gave him was honest, if not comforting.

"I'm so... mad," Nightscream went on, "but at the same time, he's Optimus. He saved my skin more times than I can count. Like I owe him or something."

Blackarachnia gave him a quizzical look. If there was one eternal truth it was that children tended to be absolutists. The world was very black and white to them and if they did not like something, they cut it out of their lives, pretended it did not exist. Nightscream had done that more than a few times in the Technorganic War when he fought with the others and just walked out. He had always come back, of course, but the fact that he was trying to deal with the problem head on now said a lot about his character.

The kid was growing up.

"I think most of us feel the same way," she finally said.

"Do you think _you_'ll forgive him?"

Blackarachnia shrugged. "If it was just me? Probably. I can deal with Megatron. Dealt with worse."

"Like that Tarantulas guy?" her gaze hardened. "Hey, I listen."

"Then learn when to shut your ears," she told him sharply and got back to her feet. "Let's try this again."

Nightscream sighed but did as he was told without complaint. He listened to the high-pitched frequency several more times and when he finally thought he had a handle on it, transformed and sent several more sonic blasts in the direction of the alien heart. The first few waves did little more than shake the object a little. He stopped, collected his thoughts, took a deep breath, and...

The structure exploded with an audible splat, sending pieces of technorganic matter all over the already decimated lab. None of the individual pieces showed any sign of life.

He blinked once, then with an excited laugh at a job well done, turned back to Blackarachnia and shifted into a human once again.

"So it's a little tricky," the boy said proudly, "but yeah, I can definitely bring those things down for the count. Just tell me where."

"Nowhere, for now," Blackarachnia observed the damage thoughtfully. "We don't even know how many of those things there are on the planet, and we need something to take out the whole structure, not just he heart. I'll have to talk to Rattrap. Maybe we can coble together some kind of sonic bomb to be dropped right on top of the things."

"Won't work," Nightscream shook his head. "I counted. I had to hold that frequency for about... twenty seconds at close range."

"Then we'll come up with something else," she already had a different idea but was not up for sharing just yet. "Whenever they get back."

She glanced up at the clock high on the wall, probably the only thing still intact in the room. It was fairly late into the evening. Even with a four hour or so flight to and from Harrisburg, she expected the others would return soon, unless they ran into significant difficulties. It occurred to her that while she had briefly seen Rampage on the news report, she had no idea just how powerful the Predacon was. Megatron had brought him and only him along. Did that mean that the crab was that much more powerful? Then again, as of the Technorganic War, the Predacon commander had become quite independent himself, preferring not to rely on other individuals.

As if on cue, the cell phone at her hip vibrated. Blackarachnia unclasped it from the holster and glanced at the caller i.d. before flipping it open.

"Everyone still alive?" she asked her brother.

"Everyone's fine. Rampage isn't a problem anymore," Cheetor's voice was curt and to the point, like he was keeping his anger in check. "Is Nightscream with you?"

"Yeah," she shifted the cell phone to a more comfortable position.

"Get him and anything you need and meet us outside. We're moving."

"Moving?" she was confused. "Where? Why?"

"Because I'm sick of working with humans who deliberately keep information from us. I'll fill you both in when you come up here."

"Okay," she said slowly and motioned for the boy to follow her out of the lab, "and where exactly are we moving to?"


	5. Chapter 4: City

_**Author's Note:**_Okay I feel like I have to say something. I've been bouncing the idea for the events in the last chapter (Megatron's actions) for a long time. I got some thumbs ups and some thumbs down for it and even one fairly nasty flame which has since then been deleted. I'm sorry if Rampage fans thought it was the worst death in the world and all that, but the fact is, this wasn't at all about Rampage. It was always about Megatron and him demonstrating just how powerful he is. He's been this way since the Technorganic War, relying more and more on himself rather than individuals. This will never be a story like BW with a bunch of Predacons running around. Megatron will be the one and only because a) Optimus is not likely to bring anyone back and b) Megatron himself believes he needs no one else. Sorry for the ramble but I needed to get that off my chest. That being said, enjoy and please review this chapter!

**Chapter 4**

**City**

It would be hard for any human to understand just what Optimus felt when he first laid eyes on the great city of the Autobots. He could not quite find a correct human lost city to compare it to. He was certain the humans equally marveled at their own creations, but it was not a metropolis of ancient civilizations or a great temple to gods long dismissed as myth. Put simply, Autobot City was a military fortress.

Built after the destruction of the Ark sometime early in the twenty-first century, it was considered the Autobots' new base of operations on Earth. The city stood on top Lookout Mountain right where the Alabama, Georgia, and Tennessee state borders met. It was large even by Autobot standards, but to the human-sized Maximals it looked simply enormous. Even the ever cynical Depth Charge gave a low whistle, impressed.

"I wonder if Teletraan II is still online," Blackarachnia, ever the historian, rattled off some of the technical specs of the colossal structure. "It's not all here. Metroplex is gone; Probably taken back to the Cybertron of this time frame. But the rest of the city looks functional and probably the most impregnable place on the planet. It once withstood full scale Decepticon siege."

"Let's not distort history," Megatron pointed out more than a little smugly. "It barely lasted a day, over 75% of the population at the time was decimated, and Optimus Prime himself fell in the end. So not quite as impregnable as you claim."

Optimus sighed. He really wished the Predacon would stop baiting everyone around. If his fellow Maximals thought he _wanted_ to bring Megatron along, they were terribly sourly mistaken. Aside from being a threat to the universe as they knew it, the Predacon was also the source of every single migraine Primal suffered upon their return to Earth. Unfortunately what he had told them was also true; he could not simply leave him behind, not with the fate of the Matrix and all the sparks within it at stake.

It was difficult to explain, and he had been surprised to learn that the humans had grasped part of the story before he had a chance to attempt to tell it. The Vok were not after Earth at all. Earth was just a stepping stone, but aliens had apparently set their sights on the dimension Cybertronians knew as the Matrix, the repository of all sparks before and after life. Sparks, being the purest form of a type energy in scientific terms, were of great interest to the Vok who were made of energy themselves.

He had been the guardian of the gates for what felt like an eternity – no matter how his team perceived the passage of time – and Optimus could not loose a single spark within it. He had to make sure the Vok never made it out of their own plane of existence. But he could also not simply leave Megatron, who posed just as great a danger to the sparks as the aliens, behind. Better to have his nemesis where he could keep an eye on him, at the expense of a headache or two and even the scorn of his entire team.

His former protoge had accused him of caring more for the dead than the living, and that opinion was only solidified by the revelation that it was the Matrix that was at stake. But Optimus was wiser now. He understood that to extinguish any spark within the Matrix was worse than death; it was a nothingness, what Megatron had recently sentenced Rampage to. Optimus was still chilled by the memory of the sight. If it meant being hated by all those he cherished, he would accept that no matter how much it saddened him, though Optimus was revealed to see that some were beginning to thaw.

_Cheetor will be the most difficult_, he reflected, casting a side long glance at the tall young man who was craning his neck to get a better look at the battlements of the city. _I'll have to talk to him alone. Later._

"So..." Nightscream was standing between Blackarachnia and Silverbolt, probably more in awe than most having never seen the slumbering Autobots or the Ark itself in the Beast Wars. "It's ours? We can just... move in? That's it?"

"That's it," Cheetor confirmed.

"How'd you talk those S7 guys into this?"

"Spots can be very persuasive when pissed off," Rattrap commented.

That was very true. After having a glance at the files taken from the Boston office, the realization that the humans had withheld vital information from them dawned on all the Maximals. Apparently human scientists had been collecting energy readings from all the known alien sights around the world. Reading that confirmed what Optimus claimed; that Earth was merely a stepping stone to the ultimate goal of the matrix, a point to bounce off from. But whether or not the humans understood their findings – they claimed that they did not, of course – the fact that they withheld something this vital was enough to make the Maximals forget their anger towards their newly revived leader.

"This is what's going to happen," Cheetor was right up in Banachek's face. "You're going to clear Autobot City of _all_ human presence. You're going to share _everything_ you know or find out from now on, and you're _not_ going to undermine our work! Anything less, and we're going to turn around, go back to Cybertron, and let Earth fry under whatever discharge that alien web generates when they turn it on."

Optimus had tried not to wince at this. Despite his enormous growth, 'diplomacy' was a word still entirely foreign to Cheetor's vocabulary. Half the threats may have been empty ones, but the humans did not know this. On the other hand, Dinobot and Depth Charge, who thus far eyed Cheetor somewhat dubiously, had both expressed great approval at this.

And now here they were, in front of history itself. There were many gates leading inside but, at the moment they stood on the opposite end of a river that surrounded half the city like the moat of some ancient castle. It was very much like the first time they had seen the Ark back in the Beast Wars, only now Optimus was grateful that despite Megatron's presence, the Predacon would not be able to use this former Autobot base to alter tie in any way. That did not mean that there was nothing within the city he could use against them at all if Megatron was inclined to do so, which he usually was. Optimus knew he would have to watch him very carefully, but as the old saying went, one kept his friends close and enemies even closer.

They began to make their way across the long bridge which was wide enough for a Cybertronian as large as Ultra Magnus to make full U-turns in vehicle mode. For the nine of them in human shape, it was easily a five minute walk to the entrance to the golden city. The doorway had been opened in preparation for their arrival, but two sentinels still guarded it.

The larger than life size statues of Optimus and Rodimus Prime stood on either side of the massive gate, silent and ever-vigilante. Primal allowed himself a moment to walk to the homage to his ancestor on the right and place his warm palm against the cool metal at the foot of the statue and simply stood there in silence. If he had glanced over his shoulder, he would have seen Cheetor wander over to the image of Rodimus and looked up at it admiringly.

Neither may have noticed the other, but their companions had not missed it. Rattrap jabbed Dinobot and nodded in the direction of the sentinels just as Blackarachnia pointed it out to Silverbolt and Nightscream. Most everyone stopped for a moment to watch as the present reacquainted itself with the past. Finally Optimus turned.

"Well," he said with a fair amount of enthusiasm, "let's take a look, shall we?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Rattrap was as used to being a fairly small transformer but at least in this case he was not alone. It was impossible _not_ to feel small when most of the doorways – all but those belonging to the human quarters that made up a tiny fraction of the city - were around thirty feet tall. He did not mind too much though; the whole city brought back a great deal of nostalgia. It might have been ancient, but it was still a little peace of Cybertron in Earth.

He explored it with caution. The Autobots and humans may have been gone, but it did not mean that a wrong step or an accidentally pressed button or pulled lever would lead to the walls coming together to crush him in a nice gooey mess of technorganic mush. In that respect, the most interesting place in the whole city to him was probably also the most dangerous. More dangerous than the armory or the room with the great canon that could take out targets miles away both on the ground and in the air.

Wheeljack's machine shop.

His mouth was slightly agape as he walked around the room which was actually relatively small by Autobot standards but still looked enormous to Rattrap. Equipment that had been abandoned years ago, possibly as long ago as the Battle for Autobot City back in 2005, still lay scattered on the ground and on the tall table. The fun he could have with this...

A slightly morose thought came to him then; Rhinox would have loved this place. Not that he doubted that he and Blackarachnia could figure out how to adapt the Autobot technology to suit their purposes – according to her there would be a need for it soon –, but all this reminded him just how much he missed his old friend. But turning to walk out, he almost literally bumped into another old friend, this one very much alive... recently.

"I shall remember this place," Dinobot surveyed the room with obvious contempt on his angular features, "in order to avoid it in the future. The resemblance to your rat's nest back on the Axalon is striking."

"Still smelled better dan yours," he shot back, but the banter was uplifting. "Ain't like we're stayin' here." The raptor have him an annoyed quizzical look. "Hey, 'side from the monkey's... err... 'optimal' form, none of us were ever thirty feet tall. We're workin' here, but we're stayin' at some of the places the humans who worked here used."

"Wonderful," the former Predacon wrinkled his nose. "They smell worse than you."

* * * * * * * * * *

On the other side of the city was something akin to an enormous balcony that overlooked the valley bellow. Somehow Silverbolt found himself wandering over to it despite the fact that he still had not seen most of the city, but the cool high mountain air outside was refreshing so he did not mind. He did find it a little odd that there was almost nothing in the way of railing to keep one from falling off the edge or that it extended so far out almost like a runway.

"Nice place," Silverbolt turned at Blackarachnia's voice and saw his mate standing in the doorway "This must have been the Aerialbots' hangar."

"How can you tell?"

She jabbed her thumb up at a wall behind her, and Silverbolt had to crane his neck slightly to see the the graffiti high up on the side of the city. In blocky smudged letters were the words:

"Eat my exhausted fumes, Seecers!" ~~Slingshot

Under it, in a different hand, was written:

"That's 'Seekers', moron," ~~Air Raid & Fireflight

This was followed by:

"Clean this up before Silverbolt or one of the Primes sees it," ~~Skydive

And the last inscription on the bottom read:

"I don't know. I kind of agree with Slingshot," ~~R. P.

It took him a second to realize that R. P. stood for Rodimus Prime, and Silverbolt had to chuckle. "Cheetor's kindred spark?"

"Apparently. This is all probably from just before the city was abandoned," she smiled but then her expression turned serious. "Do you still have General Barnett's contact information?"

"Yes," he was slightly confused by the abrupt change in topic. "Why?"

"Because I have a feeling we might need him and his planes. Nightscream and I found something that I think would work against the alien nodes. We'll run it by the team – whatever that means these days – when everyone's all settled," she gave a little non-committal shrug and linked her arm through his and turned them both so they looked out into the wilderness. "I guess ewe just try to relax a little till then. Enjoy the scenery."

* * * * * * * * * *

There was a time, back in the beginning of the Beast Wars, when Cheetor was sure he kept trying to outdo his own stupidity with each new stunt he pulled. Sure, he had an inferiority complex – what kid doesn't? – but it was like he was purposefully trying to show Optimus that he was not useless by getting himself into more and more trouble every time.

It was sort of how he was starting to feel again – directionless, overwhelmed. The urge to run came over him, but he held back, in part because his leg was still bothering him a little, in part because as big as Autobot City was there were too many twists and turns to really pick up speed. There was also the fact that until Blackarachnia and Rattrap got the security to recognize them, it really was not safe. Traps that were meant to guard against Decepticons would make short work of him.

He did, however, decide to go for a long solo walk around the city to both familiarize himself with the former Autobot base and to clear his head. After what they learned, what Optimus had told them, much of the raw anger had dissipated, but he could not seem to shake the confusion and sadness. It was not that he did not understand. He did, but logic and emotions were two things that just did not mix well.

The walk did help a little Cheetor let his hand absently slide along the cool metal walls, almost imagining that he was in a labyrinth and touch was helping him to remember the way back. It was not far from the truth considering the size and complexity of the city. Still it brought to him a sense of wonder similar to when he had first seen the Ark. Much in the same way the aliens were a frightening unknown, seeing their Autobot history in person was exciting.

Maybe he should have kept his mind on the fact that the city could still be dangerous. Cheetor did not know if his fingers slipped over something or if he had accidentally triggered a laser sensor as he walked. He gasped as suddenly the floor seemed to disappear from under him as a trap door opened and threatened to swallow him whole. He had just enough time to grab onto a piece of metal plating that had come slightly undone within the walls of the long shaft. Somehow managing to cling to the almost completely smooth metal, Cheetor once again had a deja vu of his early and very eventful years when each stunt overshadowed the previous. Had he not done this whole near-death falling thing just a few days ago?

"Cheetor!"

More deja vu.

He looked up when Optimus' worried face came into view on the backdrop of the overhead lights. The older man instantly assessed the situation and leaned over, extending his hand down to him.

"Grab on!"

Not needing to be told twice, Cheetor swung his free hand up to grasp Optimus' forearm and scrambled up the side, letting the other man assist him against the insistent pull of gravity. The second he was all the way out, the trap door shut, instantly becoming one with the rest of the floor tiles once again. Cheetor let out a deep breath that he did not realize he had been holding. _What a week_, he though.

"Thanks," it was the first time he had spoken to his mentor without belligerence in his tone since the other had returned from the dead.

Optimus nodded, his lips pressed in a thin smile that one might offer to diffuse an awkward situation. Not that it did much good because the long silence that spread between them was still uncomfortable. At least Cheetor was not trying to run away this time, though Optimus quickly realized that if there was any resolution to be made, it would have to begin on his end.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I know it doesn't begin to make you feel better, but I _am_ sorry for the way things have to be."

"_Do_ they have to be like this?"

No animosity again. He just sounded tired, a state so constant lately that he was starting to become used to it.

"You know they do, Cheetor. You know I couldn't just leave him there. If I did, we wouldn't even have to worry about the Vok because, unchecked, Megatron would be the greater threat to the Matrix in that position."

Cheetor threw back his head and ran a hand through his golden curls with a sigh. "I hate fighting with anyone I care about," he said, "especially you, Big Bot. But, to be honest, I'm having a hard time..." he search for the right words to express what he wanted to say. "I know every spark in the Matrix is precious, no less than the sparks here, but I can't... every time I see _him_, I don't think about the Matrix. All I see is what we went through on Cybertron in the Technorganic War, what each of us suffered. I mean... did you _see_ the looks on Nightscream and Silverbolt's faces?"

He did not know if he was expressing his emotions clearly enough, but Optimus seemed to understand because he nodded quietly.

"Maybe it's a good thing we're not on Cybertron anymore," Cheetor could not quite believe he was saying this but once it was out, he knew it was true. "If I was ever expected to lead _everyone_, I don't think I could do it. I couldn't put even the entire planet before my friends. I know they're willing to die for Cybertron, but I don't think I'd be able to let them."

"I think you would," the older man said. "I hope you're never in a position when you have to make that choice, but you would do whatever was right in the end. You're doing very well, Cheetor. I couldn't be prouder of the man you've grown to be. Stay focused on the team, and let me worry about Megatron and the big picture."

And, as Cheetor realized, this was not entirely new. He had taken up more and more responsibility in the field in the second half of the Technorganic War while Optimus communed with the Oracle and tried to understand the grand design. They had argued but never lost that mutual respect. Cheetor may have felt sometimes that Optimus underestimated him, but he also knew that the Maximal commander was the first to see his growth and acknowledged it by giving him the second-in-command position.

"I'll question your decisions," the young man warned him.

"I'd expect nothing less," his mentor gave him a genuine smile.

_**Author's End Note:**_ I've been mentioning Autobot City in at least half my side fics but now the move is finally complete! And Cheetor and Optimus are talking again! Yay! The graffiti bit came to me today when I was in my school's computer lab working on a research project. There kind of conversations people have on bathroom stalls in here is hilarious and the fact that it stays up there is even more funny. Though, in this case, I'm not sure what Skydive was thinking. I expect this sort of thing from everyone else – even Rodimus! - but not from him. Oh, well ^^

Speaking of side fics, I guess I should mention "Orphan of War" here, if you haven't read that one. Since we see so little of Nightscream in this, I guess we can count that one as the thing from his point of view because it could easily take place after this chapter.


End file.
